Chapter 1 A Bitchin’ Christmas #2
Pharo frowns. “Yeah, well, tell that to the kids whose parents are laid up in the beds there and they’re afraid Santa won’t find them at the hospital this year.”
I tug off my beard and toss it on a nearby chair. “The food goes over on that table,” I point out.
Pharo places a glass bowl on the table, and when he removes the tin foil covering, the smell of cinnamon and coconut fills the room. “What did you bring?”
“A traditional Egyptian dessert. Om Ali.”
“And we’re supposed to know what that is,” Jax asks with an attitude. Everything Pharo does gives Jax an attitude.
Pharo isn’t going to entertain him, as usual.
“Why don’t you shut your mouth and open your fucking eyes.
It’s puff pastry, coconut flakes, raisins, cream, cinnamon, and pistachios.
You’re not by any chance allergic to pistachios, are you?
” he asks. Jax shakes his head. “Too bad,” Pharo laments, “I guess it won’t kill you then.
” Jax glares. “What?” Pharo snaps. He sounds completely fed up with Jax.
“Mall Santa to sick children, fucking Betty Crocker, and you find time to do all that in between numerous deployments around the world? You’re just a regular fucking Rambo, but all the good deeds in the world won’t erase your sins.”
“What-the-fuck-ever Jax. What did you bring, paper fucking plates? Go sit your whiny ass down.”
Tex shoots me a side glance. “Geez, the temperature dropped fifty degrees in this room.”
I flick the white fluffy ball on the tip of his hat. “Par for the course with those two. Just ignore their bullshit. Can I get you something to eat?”
“I would love to try that dessert Pharo just brought.”
That shouldn’t make me green with jealousy, but it kinda does. He’s not saying he wants to taste Pharo, just his puff pastry. Nope, still sounds filthy in my head.
When I serve him a plate piled high with warm, creamy puff pastry, he makes a show of sliding the fork between his lips before licking them clean.
I feel it in my balls.
“Who made that?” he asks, pointing to a table at the opposite end of the room. “Is that the kind of stuff you make in group?”
I recognize Brandt's green-knit Christmas trees that I swear to God resemble butt plugs. A knit sack filled with what I guess are presents rests next to the largest tree. Tiny houses adorn the village and I can’t figure out how he knitted them, but they’re definitely made of yarn.
“Brandt has been working on that for the past four months. He’s really proud of it. ”
“Well then, I guess I shouldn’t point out that those Christmas trees look like sex toys,” he laughs.
“Probably best if you keep quiet,” I warn.
Stiles calls out, “This is fucking delicious,” around a mouthful of McCormick’s Beanie Weenies. He’s shoving them into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in a month. “Did you use the good hotdogs or that off-brand shit?”
McCormick looks insulted. “Come on, what do you take me for? It’s Christmas. I used the good shit. I had a coupon,” he boasts proudly.
Tex laughs again. “I can’t see him clipping coupons,” he whispers.
I can’t help it. I’m laughing and nodding. “Me neither.”
“All right, let’s play a game,” Nash suggests.
“Who’s up for Dirty Santa? Did everyone bring a gift like I asked?
” The presents sit next to Brandt’s Christmas village.
Each one is wrapped worse than the next, using no boxes, and way too much tape.
“Everyone grab a gift, and you can’t pick the one you brought.
We’ll take turns opening them, and you can choose to keep it or steal someone else’s. You only get one steal.”
“I’ll go first,” Jax volunteers. His bundle is wrapped in red paracord. “This has to be from Rhett,” he guesses.
Rhett grins. “That was my contribution. Riggs brought the food.”
Jax opens a bottle of peppermint-scented lube. “Seriously? Not everyone is having gay sex,” Jax complains.
Rhett shrugs. “You can use it to jack off with. Use your imagination,” he adds with a wink.
Pharo cracks up and Jax glares at him. “You go next, asshole, so I can steal it from you.”
Pharo opens a set of green-knitted Christmas trees. “Sorry,” Brandt laughs, “I had a lot left over. I might have made too many.”
Pharo snorts. “There you go, Jax. Do you want the lube or the butt plug?”
“Fuck off, you can keep it. I bet you’ll love them.”
Brandt goes next. He opens a knit skullcap beanie with the BALLS logo. “Cool,” Brandt exclaims. It looks just like the one Jax has been working on for weeks. “Did you make this?”
“No, I liked it too much to give it away. I bought that one in the gift shop.”
Nash opens a CD, the Top Gun soundtrack, which is no doubt from Brandt, who just shrugs and laughs.
“You realize nobody is stealing that from you, right?” West points out. “You’re stuck with it.”
Riggs opens a bottle of Southern Comfort. “Classy shit, right here,” he jokes. “I’m gonna guess this is from Stiles.”
“Better believe it, that’s some good shit,” Stiles swears.
Tex opens a pocket knife and frowns. He looks to Jax. “I’ll trade you for the lube,” he offers. Jax tosses the lube to him and he catches it mid-air. “Sweet,” he says excitedly, flicking the cap to smell the peppermint scent.
My face heats just thinking about Tex using the scented lube. Jesus Christ, don’t go there, Mandy. Not in a crowded room.
It’s my turn. I rip the paper from the box to find a package of fireworks.
Likely from West and Brandt’s stash for their Boot Camp.
It’s not really my thing. The trauma of the explosion sort of turned me off explosives for life.
McCormick opens a gift card to the Black Mountain Tavern. “Switch with me,” I tell him.
“Fuck yeah,” he cheers. “These explosives were meant to be mine.”
That’s a scary fucking thought.
When all the gifts are passed out and traded, Riggs breaks open the Southern Comfort and passes it around. Towards the bottom of the bottle, the Bitches come up with the genius idea of going out back behind the building to set off the fireworks.
“Fireworks for Christmas?” Brewer asks.
“Every holiday is a good reason to blow shit up,” McCormick explains.
“Don’t even try to make sense of it,” Riggs suggests.
That’s my cue to leave. I whisper to Tex, “I’m gonna head home and change out of this suit.”
“Could you drop me at Serenity House on the way?” he asks.
“Of course.” I don’t know if it’s all the positive attention I received today or the memory of Tex’s soft hands on my chest, but I feel bold and daring in a way I haven’t in…
years, not since the accident. I’ll probably regret asking, but…
“Later on, after I’ve showered and changed, would you like to join me for dinner at the Tavern?
” I hold up the gift card, pretending like I’m only asking because I want to spend it.
Who the fuck wants to eat alone?
Tex leans in close and presses his soft lips to my cheek, the ruined one. “I’d love to, big guy. Merry Christmas.”